


Two of Us

by lovely_rita



Series: Tumblr oneshots [1]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blood, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Car Accidents, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Old!Mclennon, Smut, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 19,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24775297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_rita/pseuds/lovely_rita
Summary: A collection of mclennon oneshots/asks from my Tumblr <3
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Tumblr oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791850
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	1. I Told You Not To Fall In Love With Me

**Author's Note:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: aHhahs could I request mclennon as the ship and number 15 from the Angst category? But somehow they end up working it out in the end? 😭😭

Paul considers himself a calm man. He can usually become indifferent in arguments, and can quickly calm down any incident that he sees coming. 

That is until there’s the smash of glass behind him and he looks over to see that John is leaning over a table, a glass smashed under his arm, and a man looming over him with his fist held high in an incoming rage. 

Paul didn’t see that coming, and he regrets not keeping an eye on John. Though rationally he knows John is a fully grown man and can look after himself, Paul also knows sometimes his mouth can get away from him and he can say things he doesn’t mean. 

Which looks like what has happened. 

Paul sits in shock for a second, glued to his seat as John swings for the man, but the attacker is stronger and a lot bigger than John and he’s quick to plant two more punches on his face, making the guitarist hit the floor with a hard thud.

Paul is up and out of his seat before anything else can happen. He stands between the man and John, holding his hands up in surrender for not only himself but John too. 

Paul is struck before he even gets a word out and he stumbles back slightly, spitting a bit of blood on the floor from his teeth colliding into his cheek. 

He looks up at the man again and stutters “I don’t want to fight. He didn’t mean whatever he said. Let me just take him home.” 

The man’s eyes skate over him, and his fist smacks into Paul’s nose before he walks away, leaving Paul to fall over John who’s groaning on the floor. Paul’s hand flies to his nose, and he pulls it away to see blood dripping down his palm.

Before anyone can do anything, he hauls John up and practically carries him out whilst holding his sleeve to his nose. John is silent on the way back, and Paul is glad they aren’t far away from his house so they can just walk back. Paul lets them in quietly and takes John up to the bathroom where he sits him on the toilet lid before he quickly washes his face from all the blood that has accumulated across his nose and cheeks. He dumps his blood-soaked jacket in the washing basket before moving over to John who has his eyes downcast. 

Paul squats in front of him, and places a finger under his chin, tilting it up so that he can inspect John’s face. There’s a bruise starting to form across his cheekbone, and a small cut to his lip and eyebrow. Paul prods his lip slightly earning a hiss, to which Paul grumbles out an apology before gently tracing his face with his fingertips. Once he’s done and knows John’s face is intact and nothing is broken, he sits back on his heels and sighs. 

“What did ya say to ‘im, Johnny?” 

John squirms slightly under his gaze and lowers his eyes. “He was lookin’ at me funny. So I told ‘im to piss off.” 

Paul sighs again and stands up, gently taking John’s jacket off when he remembers the glass on the table. 

“I didn’t mean for ya to get hit Paul.” 

Paul stops what he’s doing, to look at John. John’s got a look in his eyes, something Paul’s come to know as contrite, but Paul doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he carries on carefully pulling the jacket off of John’s arm, revealing a gash to his upper forearm. 

He inspects it quietly, seeing that there are pieces of glass lodged into and so proceeds to look for a pair of tweezers in his bathroom. John mumbles something under his breath, and Paul asks a small ‘ _what_ ’ as he rummages through the draws. 

“I think we should break up.”

The draw is slammed shut and Paul is quick to snap his head to look over at John.

“You what?”

John’s still got that look in his eyes, and he doesn’t respond to Paul’s question, so Paul carries on looking, angrily shoving things around until he finds what he’s been looking for. 

He sits on the edge of the bath next to John and takes his arm before starting the attentive procedure of removing the fragments of glass.

“I’m no good to ya Paul. Why would ya wanna be with me when I get ya in trouble all the time?”

Paul continues his work, and there’s a moment before he responds.

“Because I love ya.”

John tries to pull his arm away, but Paul holds it in a firm grip, and a frustrated noise escapes his throat. 

“I told you not to fall in love with me,” John snaps, but Paul doesn’t react.

Paul finishes and stands up, wetting a small cloth in the sink before sitting back down next to John. He takes the other’s arm and dabs at it, wiping away the blood and any dirt. 

“Didn’t have a choice did I, John? You can’t ask of me something like that.”

Paul’s words are icy, and they bite at John with a kind of cold anger he’s never experienced from his partner. He stays silent as Paul finishes his arm before taking the younger man’s reluctant hands into his own.

“I’m sorry Paul.”

Paul manages to crack a small smile at that and lets himself be pulled into a hug. 

“Yer a dick,” he murmurs against John’s neck, and the older man laughs quietly.

“Love ya too Macca.” 


	2. Why Are You Lying To Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: aaHH its me again I hope you dont mind 😅. Could i request mclennon again with the category Angst and number 4? (Sorry I just really love angst but maybe I'll request fluff next time-)

"What the hell is ya problem?”

John shoves him back slightly, away from the rest of the band and into the other room, and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t turn around for a minute, and Paul huffs, the anger still simmering under the surface.

“What do ya want me to say, John?”

John turns around to face him quickly, and rage pinches his face into a dark frown.

“What do ya always make an argument with Stu? Yer always so bitchy around him.”

“He’s annoying y’know? An’ he can’t even play. I don’t know why we even ‘ave him in the band,” Paul replies, standing his ground as John walks up to him so they’re almost nose to nose. But instead of breaking into a fight like Paul thought he would, John’s face hardens and he looks over Paul’s face with a blank expression.

“Why are you lying to me?”

It’s like a blow to the chest, and Paul feels the breath being sucked out of him and he grapples for an answer but he knows he can’t lie. Not again.

He observes John closely and notices how his expression hasn’t changed and it makes his gut wrench.

“Why are ya always bloody lying to me, Paul? There’s something going’ on and I know yer not telling me something and-“

“I’m jealous okay?”

John shuts up and gives him an incredulous look, and Paul thinks this is it. He’s going to be kicked out of the band and John’s going to hate him.

“Jealous of what?”

Paul sighs and looks down at his feet.

“Jus’ you and Stu are like best mates an’ I feel like yer gonna replace me.”

Paul says it quietly, but John is quick to place a hand on his cheek, and Paul looks up at him through his lashes to see that John’s face has softened.

“I’ll never replace ya Macca. Ever.”

Paul sniffs and gratefully lets himself be pulled into John’s arms.

“D’ya believe me?”

Paul nods against his neck. “Of course Johnny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! If you have a request don't be afraid to send in an ask on Tumblr @lovely-rita-meter-maidd <3 <3


	3. Almost Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b-elza-bub asked: Can I get a cute fic of maybe teddy boys john and paul sneaking out to date at night, and they almost get caught when they go back to Pauls house? I love the idea of paul trying to stay cool and John hiding in his room haha. Sorry if that's too specific but i have a mighty need!!

They sit on the edge of the docks, their feet swinging over the edge above the water. It’s dark and quiet, and they are sitting close together, thighs just touching, though not close enough for it to be suspicious. Not that there’s anyone out at this time anyway.

“John?”

John hums, his eyes not moving from the water beneath them.

“I’ve had a great night. I never knew ya to be such a romantic.”

John laughs. “I’m not a romantic Paul. Where have you got that idea?”

Paul smiles widely and shuffles closer, glad there isn’t anybody around.

“Well, I don’t know any other boy that’ll take me out just because he wants to spend time with me.”

John just hums, not denying that he is, in fact, a romantic and places his hand on Paul’s leg.

“I wish I could kiss you.”

Paul turns to him, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “If ya come to mine ya can kiss me there.”

John’s eyes light up and it’s confirmed that they’ll go back to Paul’s house for the night.

__

They get to the house and Paul opens the door quietly, knowing his dad is asleep upstairs.

They are quick to make their way into Paul’s bedroom, John muffling his giggles into the back of Paul’s shirt as he follows him into the room. Once the door is shut, John flops down on the bed with a sigh. Paul follows suit, dramatically draping himself over John who laughs a little too loudly.

Paul is trying to shush him when there’s a knock on the door.

“Paul?”

Paul’s breath hitches and he scrambles off of John before covering him with the blanket.

“Yeah?”

Jim McCartney walks in with a small frown on his face, and Paul stands up, sweating under the gaze of his father.

“Did ya bring anyone home with ya?”

Paul gulps and desperately tries to act nonchalant. “No.”

Jim observes him for a minute before nodding. “Don’t stay out as late next time. I was getting worried about ya. An’ I hope ya weren’t hangin’ around with that Lennon lad?”

Paul sighs, and he feels John’s foot twitch against his back as he presses himself to the foot of the bed.

“Dad he’s not that bad.”

Jim tuts and turns as if he’s going to leave, hand hanging on the door handle, before he turns around again.

“Next time ya bring a girl up ‘ere, do it quietly. ‘M tryin’ to sleep.”

With that, he shuts the door. Paul waits until the footsteps have disappeared before he takes the blanket off of John, who sits up, a pout on his lips.

“He thinks I’m a girl.”

Paul stifles a laugh. “Jus’ be glad he doesn’t know that it’s you that’s up ‘ere because otherwise he would ‘ave me head.”

John just rolls his eyes and lies back, pulling Paul with him by hugging an arm around his waist. Paul turns his head to look at him, and John can’t resist.

Their lips meet and it’s slow and beautiful and it means more than all the chaste kisses they usually share.

When they pull apart, John grins and Paul cocks an eyebrow.

“Where did ya learn to kiss like that?”

John just laughs and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! If you have a request don't be afraid to send in an ask on Tumblr @lovely-rita-meter-maidd <3 <3


	4. “Am I your lockscreen?”  “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: AHH!! Ok time for the fluff! Mclennon again and number 12 if thats alright?

SET IN MODERN TIMES

Paul is sat on the end of John’s bed, picking out a record to play from John’s vinyl collection, whilst John is messaging Ringo about the exam that’s coming up.

“Y’know we really should be studying,” Paul mumbles as he puts a record on before shuffling over to sit by John.

John just grunts in response, whilst the sound of Jim Morrison’s voice croons softly in the background.

Paul just rolls his eyes at him and opens his phone to message George, only for it to slip out of his hands as he tries to scoot closer to John at the same time. It lands on John’s chest with a thud, the older boy consequently sending him a scowl, before he picks it up and turns it on. John looks at the phone and then looks back up at Paul with a goofy grin, and Paul wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

“Am I your lockscreen?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

John laughs and keeps Paul’s phone in his hand before twisting his body to plant a sloppy kiss on Paul’s cheek whose face twists up in disgust.

“Yer adorable ya know,” John tells him, to which Paul gives him the middle finger.

John makes kissy noises at him and Paul breaks his facade and bursts into a fit of giggles. He moves so he’s practically in John’s lap and gives the older man a proper kiss. Their lips fit together effortlessly, and Paul never wants to stop.

“I just didn’t want to stop looking at yer face,” Paul mumbles against his lips, and John gasps and pulls away.

“That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard McCartney.”

Paul hits him with a pillow, and John breaks into a fit of laughter.


	5. I Can't Do Anything Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sevielciel asked: Hiiii, I really love your blog and stories! Can I please ask, if you don't mind, a story with the first prompt of angst? The 'I can't do anything right' with John feeling self conscious or sad about something he can't do and Paul comforting him and telling him how much he loved me?

Paul knows there’s something wrong as soon as they’ve left the stage. He watches as John’s smile drops almost instantly as they move towards the backstage area, but his head is down and he’s too far ahead for Paul to say anything.

The dressing room fills with people almost instantly, and though John jokes around and laughs along with everyone else, Paul can see there’s no actual enjoyment in his eyes. He desperately wants to pull him aside and ask what’s wrong, but he can’t. Not with all these people around. It would just cause a scene that could set John into a foul mood, meaning Paul wouldn’t find out what’s the matter with him anyway.

So he sits with his eyes trained on John, watching as his hands fidget in his lap and he bites at his lip, and Paul valiantly wants to know what’s wrong.

Eventually, the crowd dies down, leaving the four Beatles and Brian, who assures them there’s a car waiting for them outside, and Paul almost cries with gratitude.

They all stumble their way into the car with loud smiles, or fake smiles in John and Paul’s case, and George and Ringo talk amongst themselves for the car journey, leaving both Lennon and McCartney in much-needed silence.

When they _finally_ get to the hotel, Paul is glad to see he’s sharing a room with John, and instantly ushers him in, locking the door behind him.

He sighs and turns around, seeing John sat on one of the beds, his face twisted down. Paul looks at him with concern before he quietly sits down next to him.

“What’s the matter, Johnny?”

“I jus’-“. John stops himself and places a hand over his eyes before rubbing at them almost violently.

Paul places a hand lightly on his thigh and rubs his thumb back and forth gently.

“John?” he murmurs, his voice hushed like he’s afraid that if he says it any louder, John will crack and break into pieces that he’s afraid he won’t be able to put back together.

“I can't do anything right.”

Paul pauses his thumb and looks at John with a frown. “What’s ‘appened?”

John sniffs and runs a hand over his face.

“I messed up. Tonight when we were doing twist and shout. I jus’ ... I fucked it up, Paul.”

His voice is small, and it frightens Paul in a way he never thought he could feel. He knows that things hit John harder than he lets on but sometimes, like now, he doesn’t realise how deep the dagger goes.

“Johnny I’m sure ya were fine. I didn’t hear ya go wrong and I’m positive neither did anyone else.”

John is quiet, his eyes downcast, so Paul takes John’s hand in his own and squeezes it.

“I love ya, Johnny.”

John sniffs again and lifts his head, his blotchy red face looking back at Paul. His lip quivers slightly and there’s a slight wheeze to his breath and he’s quick to pull Paul in closer, burying his face against the younger’s shoulder, inhaling his scent and sheltering himself from the dark thoughts in his head. Because now all he can think of is Paul. Paul’s aftershave. Paul’s shirt. Paul’s hand on his back. _His_ Paul.

“I love ya too Paul.”


	6. “Just Get Home As Soon As Possible, Okay?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello 😊 I'd like to request a Mclennon story - number 14/Angst. Thanks a lot

Paul’s still at the studio when the phone rings, bent over his piano with his fingers locked into the keys.

He sighs and stretches his back from being hunched over for so long, and unhooks the phone.

“Hello?”

“Paul?”

Paul frowns at the voice.

“John?”

There’s a snivel on the other end of the line and concern starts to simmer in Paul’s chest.

“John, are ya okay mate?”

“‘M sorry.”

His voice is slurred slightly and it becomes apparent to Paul, even from just those words alone, that John is drunk. He prays he’s calling from the house and not from some pub that he’s stumbled across.

“Where are ya Johnny?” he asks, his voice staying calm in order not to panic the other man.

“In a phone box.”

Not at home then. Paul presses the heel of his palm against his forehead, worry starting to etch itself under his eyes.

“Is anyone with ya?”

There’s a sob and Paul reaches for his car keys in an instant.

“Ringo. S’taking me home.”

Paul lets out a sigh of relief, thankful for having Ringo as such a close friend.

“Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!”

John continues to sob, and Paul shushes him gently.

“It’s okay Johnny. I’ll meet ya back home yeah?”

He hears John sniff before a small ‘ _I’m sorry Paul_ ’ is murmured down the phone.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for Johnny. Jus’ get back home safely yeah? I’m on my way now and I’ll meet ya there.”

There’s a pause.

“‘kay Paul.”

The line goes dead and Paul is quick to run out of the studio and over to his car.

He beats the lights and makes it home in under ten minutes, thankful to still see Ringo’s car still parked on the driveway.

He moves into the house to find a passed out John across the sofa, and a tired-looking Ringo in the armchair opposite him.

“What happened?”

Ringo shrugs and runs a hand across his face wearily.

“I dunno. I found him nearly passed out at the bar and jus’ decide it was best to take ‘im home.”

Paul nods and pats Ringo on the back.

“Thanks, Ringo. You can go home now I’ve got ‘im from ‘ere.”

Ringo nods gratefully and sends a farewell over his shoulder as he leaves.

Paul sighs and sits next to John, watching as the older man stirs. He groans and a hand comes to his head.

“Don’t feel so good.”

Paul nods and squeezes his knee gently. “Come to bed Johnny.”

He helps him stand and leads him to the bedroom before wrapping him in the bed covers. He places a bucket by his head and a glass of water on the bedside table before he gets in himself.

He curls around the older man, placing a light kiss to the corner of his jaw.

“G’night Johnny.”

John is already too asleep to hear.


	7. So When Are You Going To Confess Your Undying Love For Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: AHHH there are so many many numbers i want to request but for now I'll just ask for 36... I may send in the rest later 👀

John can practically _feel_ Paul’s eyes on him from the other end of the bed. John doesn’t even have to look up from his guitar to know that the younger man is staring at him unabashedly. John would laugh, if only he didn’t feel the same.

God, how he wanted to look at Paul and just _tell him_. Tell him he liked him too and that all this tension can be resolved in a few words. But John’s never been good with feelings, and he doesn’t think that now would be an exception.

He looks up at Paul, who's eyes widen making him look like a deer in the headlights before a mild blush spreads across his cheeks and he looks down at his guitar. John chuckles lightly under his breath, watching as Paul fiddles around with strings of his guitar.

“So when are you going to confess your undying love for me?”

Well, that probably wasn’t the best way to do it.

Paul snaps his head up, his voice stammering as he tries to think of some excuse as to why he’d been staring. John looks at him, a bit shocked that Paul hasn’t told him to sod off, and so stops the younger boy from making a fool of himself.

“I’m only jokin’ son.”

Paul shuts his mouth and nods dumbly before going back to his guitar.

They’re pulled into an uncomfortable silence, and John blames himself entirely. If he had just told Paul what he actually meant and not just quipped the first thing to hit the fore-front of his brain, they may have actually got somewhere. John groans internally, mentally face-palming himself for making it all so uncomfortable.

John knows the only way to fix this is to do it himself. He sighs softly and sets aside his guitar, watching as Paul’s eyes trace his movements with a frown. He moves over to Paul so their knees are touching, and Paul is making it very clear he doesn’t know what John is doing, his face never lifting from a confused frown. John stops moving entirely when his face is just a breath away from Paul, Paul’s guitar in between them being the only barrier. He expects Paul to move away, grumble an apology or something, but instead, the younger one leans forward and their lips are brushing, and John can’t help himself before he’s pressing their lips together. It’s soft and gentle, and Paul’s lips are pliant against John’s own. Paul tastes like cigarettes and strawberries, and John immediately thinks ‘ _what the hell did he eat?_ ’before Paul is kissing him harder, deeper and John’s mind goes blank.

He couldn’t pull away even if he tried.

However, Paul does it for him and pulls away breathlessly. John watches as Paul leans back, moving his guitar from out of his lap, his eyes trained on John like he’s almost afraid of what the older man will say.

John smiles kindly and places a light hand on Paul’s knee.

“I would very much like it if ya could kiss me again.”

Paul’s face softens before he’s grabbing at the back of John’s neck and pulling him into another kiss.


	8. Are You…Flirting With Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: #45 with mclennon? Love your writing!! 💖

Paul could sense something wasn’t quite right when John turned up at his door, his face a little flushed and his eyes looking anywhere but Paul.

Paul briefly wonders what’s gone on before John is already barging his way into the house and up the stairs. Paul frowns and follows him until they’re in his room, where John unceremoniously drapes himself over the foot of the bed, his guitar straight in his lap.

Paul sits next to him with his own guitar and turns to John.

“You alright?”

John nods, his cheeks turning a darker shade. “Yeah, I’m fine Paul. Jus’ a bit cold.”

Paul continues to frown but nods at him anyway.

They begin to play, working out the bridge of a song. Paul writes a few lyrics down and shows them to John, who rubs at his eyes and squints.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes-“

“Yeah, that’s why ya have glasses, John.

“-Because I can't take them off you.”

Paul doesn’t know quite how to respond. He clears his throat and darts his eyes back down to the page whilst John shifts uncomfortably beside him.

A while goes by and the awkwardness starts to dissipate, and Paul sighs in relief.

“What do ya think my shirt’s made out of?”

Paul looks over at him like he’s gone mad before it dawns on him. The awkwardness. The blushing. The weird way he’s talking.

“Are you…flirting with me?”

John sighs and slumps back against the wall. “You’ve ruined it now Macca.”

Paul smiles at him as John pouts.

“Sorry.”

John looks up at him, actually looking at him in the eyes, and Paul can see the uncertainty tainting his face.

Paul laughs softly before he places a chaste kiss against John’s lips.

When he pulls away, John is smiling at him, and Paul could almost laugh.

“I knew it would work,” John says, and Paul bursts into a fit of giggles before pulling John closer.


	9. This Is The Last Time I’m Telling You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thepastelweirdo asked: 7 and mclennon? 💜✌️🌸

Paul walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in his Beatle attire, only to find John still asleep, half-buried by the duvet.

Paul huffs at him and pokes him in the side making the older man squirm.

“Ya need to get up, Johnny.”

John just grumbles something and turns over, cocooning himself in the blanket like a human caterpillar. Paul sighs.

“No seriously, John. We’re gonna be late.”

John doesn’t reply, and Paul can start to feel the frustration fizzle in his chest. He blows out a breath, counting down from ten before getting up and brushing his hair.

He watches John in the mirror, seeing how the older man doesn’t make any attempt to get out of bed, and it annoys him to no end.

“This is the last time I’m telling you,” he says, not turning away from the mirror. “I’ll leave yer sorry arse here if ya don’t get up in the next five minutes.”

He hears John sigh deeply into his pillow before he sits up, rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m up. Jeez, Macca no need to get so arsey.”

Paul frowns at him and thinks this is probably the best time to hit him round the head with a pillow, but instead ignores him and carries on combing his hair, smirking as John desperately blinks his eyes open trying to stay awake.


	10. I Say It ONE Time, And I Never Hear The End Of It!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: Number 4 and.. Mclennon? 👀

They’re all brainstorming a riff for their new song, and George strums out a few chords, before looking at the others.

“How’s that?”

Paul shakes his head. “No, it won’t fit. It’s got to be shorter.”

George frowns at him but nods, knowing that Paul can get frustrated easily with these sorts of things.

John plays next, and it’s a catchy tune and instantly has Paul tapping his foot, which George takes as a good sign.

“What about that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe ya should ask _Bunny_ here and see what he thinks.”

Paul snorts and Ringo muffles a laugh into the sleeve of his jacket, whilst George receives a nasty glare from John.

“I say it ONE time, and I never hear the end of it!” John says, but it only makes the others laugh harder.

John grumbles a few obscenities under his breath, most directed at George, though the other man doesn’t seem to care and continues his fit of laughter.

The giggles die down after a while, and Paul places a hand on John’s knee, though John’s still in a sulk.

“Do that riff again Johnny. I loved it.”

John finally smiles at him and begins to play again.


	11. Arguments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: John and Paul had a big argument about Brian, Paul still cant forget about Spain. It's a very cold and raining night, after very intensing session of drinking John appears under Paul's house, but Paul isnt inside...The next morning Macca finds frozen wet and limp figure curled at his doorsteps.

“What’s this about Paul?”

“This is about the fact that you ditched me for a week with no explanation other than you were ‘ _going with Brian_ ’.”

Paul is angry, a sort of anger that never comes to the surface unless someone’s crossed the line, and it makes John seethe even more to know that it’s _him_ that’s made him so angry - no, _jealous_ \- when he didn’t do anything.

“How am I s’posed to feel knowin’ you’ve fucked off to another country with another bloke?”

John doesn’t answer but his glare on Paul doesn’t falter. The younger man rolls his eyes and angrily slams his glass against the table, the alcohol spilling slightly onto the wood.

“How do I know you didn’t do anything. How do I know you didn’t wank each other off, getting your jollies from being away from me?”

John’s eyes stay fixed on Paul, though they narrow slightly and he purses his lips.

“Maybe we did.”

Paul’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and his hands release the glass.

“You’re drunk John,” he says, though it seems the bitterness stings more than the anger ever could.

“What, and you aren’t?”

Paul huffs a laugh, a strained one that echoes through the empty house like thunder, and John desperately wants to backpedal, go back to the lovely evening they were spending together.

“I’m going.”

And with that, Paul leaves him.

John stands in his living room for a minute, before he throws his glass against the wall in a rage, his hands trembling.

He didn’t want this. The holiday with Brian was just a holiday between friends and nothing happened. Paul won’t let it go, and John hadn’t realised how much it had upset him until now.

‘ _How am I s’posed to feel John?’_

John bites the inside of his cheek and rubs at his eyes.

It’s raining outside, he knows, but he won’t let Paul go the night still pissed at him.

He puts a jacket on, the one Paul got him last Christmas with the black edging and long collar, and steps out into the cold, his keys falling into his pocket as he walks over to Paul’s house, whether be damned.

— —

Paul leaves George’s house early the next morning. He’d arrived on George’s doorstep the night before, jittery and drunk and irritated, and George sat with him as Paul drank away his anger.

The rain has quietened, and Paul shivers slightly as the wind starts to pick up.

By the time he gets home, it’s mid-morning, and his headache has his mind jumbled and he’s ready to sleep at any moment.

That is, until he finds a shivering, soaked figure sleeping on his doorstep.

Paul’s immediate thought is that it’s a fan, but as he gets closer, he sees the coat. _John’s coat._

Panic bubbles in his chest, all anger from the night before forgotten, and he runs over to him, rolling him over onto his back. John is freezing, his skin pale and his lips tinged a slight blue.

Paul is quick to haul him inside and cover him in a mound of blankets, desperately trying to warm him up.

After a couple of hours, John’s eyes open and Paul nearly cries.

“What the hell were ya doin’ sleepin’ on my doorstep?”

John’s eyes flick downwards and he sighs deeply.

“I came to apologise but ya weren’t in so I was waitin’ for ya to get home.”

Paul smiles softly and huddles himself into John’s side, resting his head against John’s, much warmer, shoulder.

“I forgive ya, Johnny.”

John places a soft kiss to Paul’s head, and Paul smiles.


	12. You Idiot, You’re Embarrassing Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: Mclennon #9 🙏💞

John is drunkenly swaying, singing a rendition of jailhouse rock that Paul knows doesn’t have the right words, and Paul reddens with embarrassment when John starts to get louder. The crowd are starting to jeer at him but it doesn’t seem that John cares, and he carries on, his hips moving from side to side in a bad impression of Elvis.

When the crowd start to get rowdier, one of them even trying to get the microphone from between John’s hands, Paul abandons his beer at the bar to get John away from the people.

Paul walks over to John’s side and taps him.

“C’mon John we better go.”

It seems as though John didn’t hear him, or didn’t want to listen, and carries on anyway. Paul huffs and taps him again, to which John turns his head.

“You idiot, you’re embarrassing me **,** ” Paul says through clenched teeth, and he glares at John until the elder man puts down the microphone and follows him off stage.

By the time they get home, Paul is practically carrying John, who’s drunkenly singing the last chorus of words of love over and over again, which just so happens to only be two lines long, whilst Paul is slowly losing his will to live. Paul gets them into the house quickly, and as soon as he’s manoeuvred John into the bedroom and under the covers, the older man is out like a light.


	13. Bigger Than Jesus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Paul having a go at Brian for reducing John to tears during Jesus controversy? :)

“Enough!”

Brian shuts his mouth and squints at Paul, who’s face is pulled into a growl.

“I agree yes he shouldn’t have said it but it’s done. Stop sayin’ we’re gonna get killed because of this. Jus’ fix it and stop havin’ a go at him.”

John has gone unusually quiet next to Paul, and Brian watches a Paul puts a hand on John’s knee, squeezing it to let John know it’s okay, without even looking at him. Paul’s face doesn’t change, his eyes boring into Brian’s skull, and Brian sighs.

“Fine. John I’m going to set up an interview and you’re going to apologise and we can forget this never happened.”

Paul gives a tight smile and Brian lets out a breath, the tightness in his chest starting to go from being under Paul’s murderous glare.

He turns his back to the two, and he listens to them as he sorts the papers on his desk.

“It’s okay Johnny. It’s gonna be sorted I promise.”

He turns his head slightly and can see Paul wiping the tears that are starting to run down John’s face. John’s got his eyes scrunched closed and he’s shaking his head.

“No, we’re gonna die and it's my fault.”

Paul just tuts and pulls John in closer.

Brian feels uncomfortable, feeling like he’s spying on them in such an intimate moment, but Paul catches his stare and the man’s eyes harden. He quickly looks away and excuses himself, leaving Paul to pick up the pieces of a broken John that Brian shattered.


	14. I Thought I Lost You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: What about this idea - modern AU/mclennon. John's got involved in some kind of accident (maybe car crash or something) and Paul visits him in hospital. You can make it as angsty as possible 😉 And maybe a little bit longer than usual, if it's not a problem? I really enjoy your writing and I'm looking forward to read that long fic 😊♥️

“Paul?”

Paul looks up from his guitar. Brian is stood in the doorway, his expression dejected, and panic instantly starts to spark in his chest. Brian doesn’t say anything for a while, and Paul puts his guitar down, watching as Brian sighs heavily and takes a step forward.

“Paul I need you to listen to me. There’s a car waiting outside and it’s going to take us to the hospital?”

Paul stands up almost instantly. “What?”

“It’s John. He… he’s been in an accident.”

Paul feels his knees hit the floor before he realises he’s collapsed. His hands are shaky, and he looks at them oddly, before Brian comes into view, squatted down in front of him.

“We’ve got to go, Paul. He’ll be okay”.

Paul only nods numbly and lets himself be helped up off the floor by Brian who gently guides him out the studio and into the waiting car.

The ride is silent, apart from the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and his staccato breaths as he tries to keep in his panic. His head is running through the worst scenarios, and he squeezes his eyes shut when his mind presents him with the possibility that John could be dead. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, desperately trying to rid himself of such awful thoughts, and he lets out a shaky breath and promises himself to not cry.

He can feel Brian’s eyes on him watching him closely, but he doesn’t think he has anything to say. If he speaks now, he thinks, he’ll end up crying and he can’t.

So they sit quietly, Paul fiddling with his hands in his lap nervously as he watches the hospital come into view.

Paul follows Brian into the hospital, harrowed by the anxiety that maybe John isn’t okay, and the antiseptic smell hits him, only confirming that this is actually real.

They take the lift up to the third floor before they approach a private room, and Paul doesn’t know how long he can take not knowing what’s happened.

A doctor approaches them, and Paul blinks his eyes over to look at her, his vision turning blurry when she says “he’s seriously injured.”

He finds himself sat down not too long after, and shortly realises he’s got his head between his legs and there’s a hand rubbing his back, and he briefly thinks it’s John who’s comforting, only then it registers that it can’t be John. He lifts himself up into a sitting position and finds Brian stood over him, with what appears to be a sick bowl, and the doctor is sat next to him with her hand still on his back.

“He’s going to be fine. He’s just going to need time to heal.”

Her voice is soft, and he nods numbly at her, though the pain in his chest doesn’t lessen.

“You can go and see him if you want.”

He stands up a bit too quickly, and Brian places a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him from toppling over, the sick bowl shoved under his face.

Paul just shakes his head and steps away, before moving into the room alone, shutting the door behind him.

John is asleep, and Paul is thankful because he doesn’t want him to see his reaction.

John is covered in wires and there seems to be some sort of bracket connected to his chest. The sight of it makes something churn in Paul’s stomach and he stumbles over to the chair by the bed and sits down. John is pale, and there’s still remnants of blood on his face, and Paul desperately want to look away but he can’t.

A sob escapes him, and he holds a hand to his mouth as he looks at his partner whose lying lifeless in the bed.

And then he can’t hold it in anymore.

He breaks. Everything comes rushing at him at once, and soon he finds himself a trembling mess, sobbing into the white sheets by John’s hip. He cries and his chest heaves and panic jabs at him like a knife. But he can’t stop.

He becomes aware after a while that there’s a hand in his hair and he can just about hear someone else’s voice over his own heartbeat.

He opens his eyes and looks up. John is looking down at him, his eyes half-lidded, and he’s stroking Paul’s hair lightly to try and calm him down.

“It’s okay Paul. I’m gonna be okay.”

But Paul can’t seem to stop. He curls into himself tighter, mashing his head into the bed, but John’s hand never leaves. Instead, it works it’s way down to the nape of his neck, finely stroking the hair there.

Finally, he starts to find himself drifting back, like emerging from water after being under for too long. He whimpers and sniffs before looking up at John, his face blotchy and his eyes swollen.

“I thought I lost you, Johnny.”

John’s hand moves to his cheek, thumbing away stray tears.

“You could never get rid of me Macca. I love you too much to leave you.”

Paul smiles, genuinely, and sits up to kiss John on the lips, careful of the bruising on his face.

“Are you okay?”

He whispers it against John’s lips like he’s afraid of the answer he’ll get, but John just hums and kisses him again.

“I’ve been better. Jus’ a bit sore.”

Paul nods at him sympathetically and brushes his fingers over the bandage around John’s head.

“At least this gives me an excuse to stay in bed and make you wait on me hand and foot.”

Paul laughs, though it’s wet and he’s still crying a little but doesn’t answer. He gingerly rests his head on John’s shoulder and takes his hand into his own. John squeezes it and presses a kiss to the side of Paul’s head gently.

“You know I love you yeah?”

Paul can feel John nod against him and he smiles.

“I love you too Macca.”


	15. He'll Never Let Him Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: hello! maybe some John!whump where he did something stupid, dangerous and irresponsible and Brian or Paul at the end tells him: “Are you kidding? I’m never letting you out of my sight again'

As soon as he hears John’s on the roof, he’s quick to put his bass down and head up to the top where he sees John standing too close to the edge for Paul’s liking.

“John?”

“I took the one wrong one.”

Paul swallows and takes a few steps forward until he’s nearly touching John.

“It’s okay Johnny. Just come down yeah?”

John doesn’t look at him, and Paul can see his hands shaking and his body tremble. Paul looks over his shoulder to see George watching, ready to take action if needed, and Paul’s thankful that he’s there.

He approaches John slowly and takes his hand in his own before pulling him back onto the wide expanse of the roof.

John stumbles after him, and Paul is quick to pull him into a hug, grasping him tightly. He can feel John’s tears against his neck, and he holds him tighter, letting out a breath of relief.

“It’s okay, Johnny.”

He rubs a hand up and down John’s back, soothing him gently until John pulls away to look at him.

Paul brushes the hair from John’s face gently.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” Paul says, and John laughs, though his smile is dampened by his red eyes and blotchy face.

Paul pulls him closer, tighter.

He’ll never let him go.


	16. I Can’t Do This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: How about this one - John and Paul taking care of little Julian. John is insecure and almost afraid of holding his tiny son but Paul's there to show him how to do things properly ☺️

Cynthia leaves John with Julian for the day so she can go out with her friends, and John is quick to ask Paul to come over.

When Paul arrives he can hear Julian crying and a dishevelled John opens the door.

“Please help.”

Paul laughs at him and follows John into the house to find Julian wailing in his cot.

Paul picks him up and cradles him against his chest, shushing him until Julian calms down. John frowns at him.

“How did ya do that?”

Julian gurgles against Paul’s chest and fists a hand into his shirt.

“You’ve just gotta calm him down Johnny. Y’know, like hug ‘im y’know.”

John still looks a bit puzzled at how easily Paul was able to calm the baby down and Paul sighs.

“Here,” Paul says and then John has his hands full with Julian who’s beginning to cry again.

John stutters and holds the baby awkwardly, not quite sure what to do.

“I don’t... I just... Paul, I can’t do this. Cyn usually calms him down.”

Paul just smiles at him softly and helps him manoeuvre Julian so that his head lays snugly against John’s chest, whilst John has a hand under his bum and one on his back.

“There ya go,” Paul says, beaming at John as he rubs his hand up and down Julian’s back. “See that was easy.”

“Easy. Sure,” John mumbles as he looks down at the half-asleep baby cradled against him.

Paul laughs and places a chaste kiss on his cheek before moving to make them a cup of tea, leaving John to hold the baby, and John kisses the top of Julian‘s head sweetly.


	17. You're Not Fat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: John is having a very bad time after the press renamed him the "fat beatle". Paul finds out what is bothering John and he spoils him rotten, cuddles him, tells nim how beautiful he is, worships him and tells him hundreds times how much he loves him. Later with Brian's help he finds the stupid journalist and shows him his no so "cute beatle" face P.s. hope you'll feel better soon :)

Paul knows John’s still awake. His breathing is stuttering instead of it being smooth like it usually is when he’s asleep. Paul frowns and rolls over, finding John staring at the ceiling.

“John?”

“Go back to sleep Paul.”

His voice is gruff, and it invites Paul’s attention instantly, because he knows John’s voice, and it usually only sounds like that when he’s upset. Like _really_ upset. He doesn’t hear it very often, maybe only hearing it when Julia and Stuart died, and Paul dreads to think what could’ve made John so dispirited.

Paul snuggles closer to him and puts a hand on his chest lightly.

“Y’know ya can talk to me Johnny,” Paul says, whispered in the dark, and he can just about see John’s face twist downward before he moves his head away from Paul.

The silence is deafening, but Paul doesn’t budge. He lightly strokes little circles against John’s skin until the older man breaks. But Paul’s ready. Already there to catch him.

“S’just... the reporter. I... I’m fat Paul.”

Paul props himself up with his elbow so he has a better look at John’s face that’s still turned away.

Paul gently cups his jaw and turns his face to look at him, and his eyes glisten with unshed tears.

“Yer not fat John. I don’t care what they think.”

John lowers his eyes and goes to turn his head away but Paul quickly stops him with a kiss, pouring all of his emotions against John’s lips.

“Yer not fat,” he says when he’s broken away from the kiss, and John’s eyes linger on him for a second before he hugs Paul close.

Paul holds him tightly, and when he begins to feel John shake, tears wetting the front of his shirt, he doesn’t say anything. He just shushes him quietly and keeps holding him.

Neither of them gets much sleep.

—

When John awakes the next morning, it’s to the feeling of kisses against his neck. He smiles and opens his eyes.

When Paul’s noticed he’s awake, he kisses John deeply before pulling away to kiss at his arm.

“What are ya doin’?”

“I love yer arms.”

He moves down to kiss at his stomach, and John nearly hides his face in embarrassment.

“I love yer belly.”

He moves lower again to kiss at John’s thighs, and John almost laughs.

“And I love yer thighs.”

“Yer weird.”

Paul lifts an eyebrow, pecking his lips against the side of John’s knee.

“No, I’m not. I’m just showing ya how much I love you and that no matter what you think, I know yer not fat. And even if ya were I’d love ya anyway.”

Paul crawls back up to plant a kiss against John’s lips, and John cups his jaw lightly.

“Thank you.”

He says it quietly, a ghost of a whisper against Paul’s lips, and Paul smiles lovingly.

—

When Paul and Brian enter the journalist's office, the man is not expecting the Beatle to look so angry.

Paul is fuming, and he sits in the chair next to Brian, his eyes glaring at the man, the atmosphere hostile.

“What can I do for you, Mr McCartney?”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The man looks startled, and he looks over at Brian for some help, but Brian just shrugs.

“How dare you call John fat. He’s the same size as me you twat but I don’t hear you saying anything about my weight. I want ya to take it out of the new publishings, and if I ever hear of it again I’ll have ya in court.”

The man nods his head, bewildered that the so-called ‘cute Beatle’ could be so harsh.

Paul just tuts and leaves the room sharply. Brian turns to the man and says “if I were you I’d listen to him,” before he follows the Beatle, leaving the journalist to ring around to stop publishings.


	18. Can’t Sleep?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Fluff is coming to the rescue! 😄 So... You're not tired of mclennon requests, right? 'Cause I have another idea - Paul noticed how John is having trouble falling asleep, so he try to help (some cuddles and humming...)

“John stop tapping.”

Paul is only half awake, but the rhythmic noise coming from John tapping the side of the bed makes it almost impossible for him to sleep.

John stops, and Paul hears him sigh loudly.

Paul rolls over, curling around the older man and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Can’t sleep?”

John sighs again. “Yeah.”

Paul slips his leg between John’s and sleepily hums the tune of ‘Love Me Tender’ against John’s neck.

“What are ya doin’?”

Paul stops humming to kiss lovingly at John’s jaw.

“Humming is meant to help ya fall asleep.”

Paul yawns before continuing to hum, and John turns his head slightly to look at him.

“At this rate, you’ll put yerself to sleep before me.”

Paul laughs before asking John to roll over, though he does it mid-yawn so it comes out as one continuous syllable.

“I have no clue what ya just said but I’m guessing you want me to roll over.”

Paul nods at him, and John shifts so that they’re face to face, and Paul snuggles closer until their noses are touching, wrapping his arms around John’s waist.

They kiss lazily until Paul pulls back with a yawn and settles his face against John’s shoulder.

“Is this helping?” Paul asks though it’s slightly muffled by John’s shoulder.

John yawns, and buries his face in Paul’s hair, feeling the younger man fall asleep against him.

“Yeah, it is.”


	19. You’ve Got Freckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello. Can you write some fluff with John&Paul where Paul admires John's freckles? 😍 ...By the way this is my #4 ask here, so thank you once again for writing all of them 🤗

“What are ya doin’?”

John turns his head to look over his shoulder, watching as Paul blushes and averts his eyes from staring at John’s back.

“You’ve got freckles.”

“Very observant of ya Dr Watson.”

Paul bites his lip and puffs a breath of air through his nose.

“I just never noticed y’know.”

John rolls his eyes and moves his head back down on his arm that’s resting on his pillow. After a few seconds, he can feel fingers trace the top of his shoulder.

John gives an exaggerated sigh and moves his other arm to cover his eyes. Paul’s fingers don’t stop, and they move down to skate over his back, making John groan.

“That tickles y’know.”

Paul just laughs, and removes his fingers, making John sigh with relief and move his arm so that his face can rest against the pillow, blissfully closing his eyes.

There’s a kiss to his shoulder, and then again and then again and John’s eyes snap open.

“Paul?”

“Yes, Johnny?”

“Yer an idiot.”

Another kiss.

“But yer so pretty.”

John just rolls over so he’s on top of Paul, making the younger boy gasp, and he grins at him.

John kisses all over Paul’s face, making Paul try to bat him away but John doesn’t stop.

“John will ya stop that.”

John does eventually stop, and moves so he’s on Paul’s eye level, smiling sweetly.

“But yer so pretty.”

Paul laughs at him and pulls him into a kiss.


	20. Are Ya Gonna Cuddle Me Or What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hi! Can I request something? John's got a broken arm. He's grumpy because of the pain and itchiness. Paul's trying to comfort him and make him feel better. Suddenly he finds that doodling on John's cast would be cool idea... Could be fun to write, I think 😁

John grumbles quietly, and Paul sighs, following him into the house with a load of painkillers in hand.

John is dramatically laying himself across the sofa by the time Paul has sorted the drinks and made it into the living room.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Paul says when a rather loud groan emits from John’s throat.

“But it hurts,” John whines, but Paul just hands him his drink.

“Don’t be a pussy.”

John sighs loudly, sitting up to sip at his tea before placing it on the table with a sigh.

“Are ya gonna cuddle me or what?”

Paul looks over at him. John’s eyebrows are tightened in pain with a grumpy frown pulling on his lips, and he watches as his good hand scratches slightly where the cast meets skin.

Paul sighs, _oh the drama_ , and moves from his seat to sit next to John, bringing the older man into his arms.

John snuggles into Paul’s side but continues to scratch at his arm and Paul swats at him.

“Stop that.”

John grumbles some sort of obscenity under his breath, though it’s heard loud and clear by Paul who huffs at him.

He feels John begin to relax next to him and runs a hand through the older man’s hair gently before getting back up.

“Where are ya goin’?”

“Jus’ wait there.”

After rummaging around in their drawers, Paul finds a black marker pen and sits comfortably back down next to John.

John looks confused, but Paul takes his arm and writes ‘I love you’ neatly by his wrist.

John beams at him and lets Paul doodle on his arm, watching for a while before falling asleep against Paul’s side.

And when John wakes up to find a lewd drawing of a dick on his arm, Paul can only laugh.


	21. Carry Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello, hello. How are you? Hope you're doing fine ☺️ I felt inspired by that anon who requested grumpy John story. But let's change scenario a little bit: this time he's got broken leg and is even more annoying. One evening he persuades poor Paulie to carry him to bed 😆

Paul helps John out of the car, not even getting a ‘thank you’ before leading him into the dark house, switching on the lights on his way in.

“Paul.”

“What Johnny?”

Paul looks over at John, who’s sat firmly on their sofa with his leg propped up, a hand over his eyes in a dramatic way to get Paul’s attention.

“My leg hurts.”

“No shit. Just keep it propped up and you can have yer meds in a bit.”

“Fuck you.”

Paul rolls his eyes, ignoring John’s groans of protest when he sits in a chair separate from John, instead of cuddling him like John had hoped.

“Yer mean.”

Paul blows him a kiss in a way of response which only causes John to sigh rather loudly.

“I’m tired.”

Paul rubs a hand over his face and stretches his legs out.

“Yeah me too.”

He stands and goes to walk to their bedroom, only he’s stopped when his hand is grabbed. He looks over at John with an arched eyebrow, and John gives him a pleading smile.

“Carry me?”

“You’ve got crutches. Use ‘em.”

John pouts and tightens his grip on Paul’s hand.

“Please.”

Paul knows he’s being played, but he picks John up and carries him to their bedroom, putting him down on the bed, careful of his leg.

“Thank you, Macca.”

Paul just grumbles at him and gets into bed next to him, hearing John laugh.


	22. Not At The Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sevielciel asked: Hiii, I love your stories! Can I ask something? Like Mclennon as teens, first dinner where the families are meeting. Jim mistakenly thinks that Mimi is John's mom, because he doesn't know about Julia, and so he asks John why he didn't call her mom. Paul is embarrassed, but in the end, Mimi just laughs it off. I know, I'm a bit specific, but I did thought about a first meeting and I think it's funny

“How do ya think it’ll go?”

John looks at him in the mirror and squints.

“I don’t know. Jus’ hope they’re not too embarrassing.”

Paul groans, and is pulled up by John who smiles at him.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

John kisses away the frown on Paul’s lips and gives him a wink before they leave the room to meet Jim downstairs who’s waiting for them so they can walk over to John’s house.

— —

“This is very nice Mimi,” Jim says, and Mimi smiles at him kindly.

“Thank you, Jim. It’s my special chicken pie. I only make it when there’s a special occasion, or if John wants to impress someone.”

John goes red, and Paul holds in his laughter at the sight, knowing full well that the first dinner he had at John’s was Mimi’s special chicken pie.

“Please just eat yer dinner, Mimi,” John grumbles, and Paul smothers his laughter in the palm of his hand.

“Sorry if I’m pryin’ but why don’t ya call her mum?”

It’s Paul’s turn to go beet-red, and he avoids his dad’s inquisitive stare by lowering his eyes in embarrassment. John pats his knee, giving him somewhat reassurance, but Paul only sighs and gives him an apologetic look, though John looks like he’s keeping his laughter in.

Mimi clears her throat and all eyes turn to her.

“I’m his Auntie not his mother. Easy mistake though, don’t worry.”

Jim nods at her, and small conversation is continued.

John turns to Paul and says “I told ya they’d be embarrassing.”

Paul only shakes his head, and John gives him a toothy grin before kissing him on the cheek.

“Not at the table,” Mimi gasps, and they can’t hold their laughter in any longer.


	23. Love You Too Grandpa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hi. I've got an ask that might be pretty unusual haha. Do you mind writing something with old John&Paul? They are like good old marriage, living together somewhere in Scotland with cats and dogs... ☺️

John watches as Paul walks towards him from the end of the field, and hands him a mug of tea when the man sits down next to him on the bench.

Paul is out of breath, and their dog sits quietly by his feet

John laughs, and Paul shoots him a glare.

“Not as fit as ya used to be huh?”

Paul jabs him in the side and John only laughs harder.

“At least I’m not old.”

John gasps, bringing a hand to his chest in feigned hurt.

“I may be older than ya in years son, but you act like yer old enough to have fought in the war.”

Paul shoots him a look and grumbles something under his breath, taking a sip of his tea, and the dog jumps onto the bench to sit comfortably across Paul’s lap.

“At least someone loves me,” Paul says and John guffaws.

“Ha ha,” he says before leaning in to kiss Paul’s lips gently.

“I love ya, you old git.”

“Yeah. Love you too grandpa.”


	24. Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Thank you for writing my request! I'm glad you liked the idea ☺️ Could you write more set in that universe? Maybe one of their grandchildren comes to visit his/her grandpas 😄

Julian lets himself into the house, greeted by a heard of dogs that Dylan pets lovingly, before dropping his bags in the hall and moving into the kitchen. Paul is cooking, what Julian thinks must be lunch, and Julian enters silently with Dylan on his hip.

“Hey Paul,” he says, watching as the older man jumps before setting the knife down and turning to him with a surprised face.

“Hey Jules,” he says before Dylan practically flings himself at Paul with a loud ‘ _grandpa_ ’ and he laughs.

“Where’s dad?”

Paul holds Dylan on his hip before resuming his work and says “in the garden.”

Julian nods, hearing Paul talk to Dylan quietly, and makes his way through the house until he’s in the ‘garden’ as they call it. It’s more of a few fields but Julian guesses they’re used to it by now.

He finds his father planting flowers, and frowns at the sight, before bending down next to him.

“Hey, dad.”

John turns to him with a smile, and looks like he wants to hug him but stops himself when he realises his hands are covered in mud.

“Hey, Jules. What r’ya doin’ here?”

“Paul invited me and Dylan to stay for the weekend,” he says, and John hums in reply before shovelling the soil back into the ground.

“What r’ya doin’ this for anyway?” Julian asks, watching as his father frowns, patting the soil flat.

“Paul made me do it didn’t he. Said I needed to get me arse out of the house but I don’t see that lazy bugger out ‘ere.”

Julian laughs at his dad’s grumbling and instead stands up to help Paul, who’s trying to carry three plates at once with Dylan hanging on one of his legs. He takes a plate and Dylan’s hand and they all sit around the outdoor table.

Julian looks at the two older men, watching as John hugs Dylan before tapping his nose making him giggle. Julian sees them both equally as his father and counts himself lucky to have three loving parents, and three loving grandparents for Dylan.

“Yer goin’ grey there Paul,” Julian says gesturing to the white streaks in his hair, and Paul shoots him a glare whilst John breaks into a laugh. Dylan giggles on John’s lap and reaches across to sit in Paul’s instead to grab at his hair.

“Grey,” he says with a cheeky grin, and Paul feigns a laugh whilst death glaring the other two.

“It’s not his fault he’s so old, Dylan. He’ll be sixty soon y’know.”

“May I remind ya I’m not the oldest,” Paul says, pointing his fork at John, who laughs and bats his hand away.

Julian watches them with a smile as they bicker between themselves, whilst Dylan climbs between the two with small giggles, and he’s glad they’ve finally got the life they always wanted.


	25. I’m Only Here To Establish An Alibi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: 42 with Mclennon and fluff pls! 💙💙

Paul opens his eyes and sits up a little as his door opens violently, and slams shut when a dishevelled John Lennon enters his room, red-faced and out of breath.

Paul frowns, but makes no attempt to move from the bed, and instead makes eye contact with John who smirks at him cheekily.

“What are ya doin’ here?”

Paul asks, rubbing at his eyes as his gaze lands on the clock, making him very aware that it’s only three in the morning. He’s also very aware that John’s clad in only his y-fronts, and it makes him blush slightly before his eyes meet John’s again.

“I’m only here to establish an alibi.”

Paul guffaws, rolls his eyes, and proceeds to lie back down.

“Oh. Is that all I’m here for then?”

“ ‘course not,” John replies, and soon enough Paul feels the bed dip beside him and a hand snake around his waist.

Paul fakes a sigh of annoyance that causes John to laugh, though Paul doesn’t do anything to move John’s hand from his hip.

“What did ya do?” Paul asks, with a yawn, and John tucks his head in the space between his head and collarbone.

“Okay well I didn’t mean to but I sort of...”

Paul frowns and turns his head slightly to look at John who looks like he’s desperately trying to hold in his laughter.

“I ate George’s lunch. But it was in the fridge and I didn’t think it was his.”

“Even though it has his name on it?”

John squints at him, and his hand pinches at Paul’s hip making him yelp.

“Look I’m practically blind. You can’t blame the afflicted Paul.”

Paul hums and closes his eyes, feeling John shift closer, and they can hear someone shouting outside the room.

“He’s gonna know it you y’know.”

John huffs and shakes his head. “Not if I tell him I’ve been in ‘ere the whole time.”

Paul moves to look at him and raises his eyebrow.

“And how the hell are ya gonna convince him?”

When he feels John’s hand travel down to his crotch, Paul gasps and scowls at him.

“We’ll get caught if they come looking for ya.”

John smiles coyly and settles his hand on the front of Paul’s pants

“Isn’t that the point?”

Paul smacks his hand away and John pouts.

“We’ll go to prison.”

“I’d rather go to prison than have a scrap with the hangry monster. Please Macca.”

His hand is sliding down there again and Paul takes the hand into his own instead.

“No.”

John slumps against him with a pathetic whine before he’s quick to hide under the duvet when a murderous George walks in.


	26. I Thought You Were Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello! It's me again 😊 Thank you for the story. Dylan with his granddads is adorable. This whole universe is adorable, tho. It's so sad that things went the way they did and John didn't get a chance to grow old with the ones he loves... Anyway, I saw you have dialogue prompts! That's great, so many possibilities. Could you write mclennon with 13, 29&38 (I'm in the mood for angst, haha)? And sorry it's mclennon again but I just love these two 😏😄

George watches as Paul climbs onto the moped, and he frowns as Paul tests it.

“You’ve thought about this haven’t, you?”

“ ‘course I have,” Paul replies, but he stops what he’s doing when he sees George’s worried face.

“Look I’ll be fine. If I’m not back in twenty then come and find me.”

It does nothing to reassure George, but Paul only smiles at him before he drives away.

— —

When John gets the call from George, he’s out of the house before anyone can say anything. He drives over to the hospital, his hands shakily grasping the steering wheel as his chest heaves with unwarranted sobs.

He doesn’t want it to be real, almost doesn’t want to believe George’s words, but they circle around his head like a never-ending mantra, and as he pulls his car into park, he lets his head rest on the steering wheel.

_I don’t know what’s happened. He could be dead John._

John wants to be sick.

He gets out of the car on shaky legs and hurries into the hospital asking for Paul, and he has a nurse gently lead him to a secluded room at the end of a corridor. She leaves him by the door, and he takes a deep breath, almost too scared to enter, but he pushes down on the handle and steps inside.

Paul is sat up and awake, the only visible signs of him being hurt are scratches across his face and his lip that’s swollen.

John nearly collapses in relief and he stumbles over to Paul and pulls him into a hug, eliciting a confused noise from Paul.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Why would ya think that?” Paul asks though it’s muffled against John’s chest. John doesn’t let go, doesn’t _want_ to let go, and instead threads his hand in Paul’s hair.

“George didn’t tell me what was happening. He said you might be dead.”

He feels Paul chest rise in a chuckle before a mumble of ‘ _daft git_ ’ is breathed against him.

“John.”

John lets go and looks at Paul, who looks back at him almost sympathetically.

“I’m okay,” Paul says, and John nods softly, so he takes John’s hand in his own, squeezing gently.

“I’m not going anywhere.”


	27. I Don’t Want To Screw This Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: 49 for the prompt list please 😭🙏

John watches as Paul fiddles with his guitar nervously and places a hand on his shoulder softly.

“Hey, you alright?”

Paul looks up at him with wide eyes and nods his head, though it looks like he’s trying to reassure himself instead of John.

“Why does yer face look like yer on death row then?”

Paul sighs and lowers his gaze, and John doesn’t move his hand from Paul’s shoulder.

**“** I don’t want to screw this up.”

It’s said quietly, and John knows he means his solo. He’s on in two minutes, and it’s the first time one of them will be up against the audience alone.

“You’ll be fine. Everyone loves the song, and if you mess up I doubt they’d even notice.”

Paul gives a shaky smile, and John pats his shoulder as the curtain call is shouted through the speakers.

“You’ll be fine,” John repeats, sneaking a quick kiss to Paul’s cheek before Paul is alone, the curtains drawing upwards.

Paul looks over to John, who gives him a thumbs up in the wings and smiles before starting the song.


	28. Don’t Scare Me Like That Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: I've got a request but not from prompt list - Could you write angsty old mclennon where one of them is sick?

“Have ya heard anythin’?”

John sighs and lifts his head from his hands to shake his head.

“Not yet. ‘M guessing they’ll say somethin’ soon because he’s been gone a long time.”

George grimaces and sits next to John, patting his knee.

“I’m sure he’s fine. It’s jus’ cause he’s-“

“If you say old I’ll have yer ‘ead.”

George shuts his mouth and laughs, earning at least a smile from John.

“You do realise there’s only a year between you two.”

George shrugs and pats John’s knee.

“God I hope he’s okay,” John says, running his hands through his hair in a way to calm himself, and George just hums because he has no answer.

— —

When the doctor calls him, John leaves George in the waiting room with a wish that everything’s okay. He’s lead into a private room, and the sight of Paul awake nearly makes him sob on the spot.

His face is grey, his eyes are half-lidded, there’s an oxygen mask on his face, but what catches John’s attention the most is his smile.

John is quick to stumble over, thumbing his finger over Paul’s cold cheek.

“‘M so glad yer okay.”

Paul laughs, though it’s crackly, and he moves the mask from his mouth.

“I told ya I was fine.”

“Fine my arse. You’ve got bloody pneumonia, Paul.”

Paul sighs shallowly, and John tuts and places the mask back over Paul’s mouth.

“Jus’ a cold,” Paul mumbles, closing his eyes briefly, and John just sighs, slumping down in the chair next to the bed.

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

Paul opens his eyes briefly and smiles, and John takes his hand in his own.


	29. What Were You Doing To Uncle Paul?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sevielciel asked: Hey dear, I've got a request, if you don't mind :) John and Paul making sex and little Julian comes in, right when one of the two (whoever of the two you want) is penetrating the other and can't understand what his daddy and uncle are doing? It's smutty, I know, but I think it'd a great shot :) Only if you want obviously :)

“Keep goin’ Johnny.”

Paul breathes it against John’s mouth but John is quick to shut him up, closing his lips around Paul’s in a sloppy kiss as Paul moans beneath him. He pulls his fingers out and smirks at how Paul gasps slightly, eyes pleading at him to carry on.

John coats himself in lube before he sits between Paul’s legs, and Paul whines at him to ‘ _get on with it_ ’, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

John pushes in slowly and Paul whimpers, his hands shooting up to grab onto John’s shoulders before John presses their lips together.

“Daddy?”

Both of their eyes fly open, and John pulls out quickly and covers them in a blanket whilst Paul gasps a little at the pain. Julian is stood in the doorway, one hand rubbing at his eyes with the other holding onto his small blanket.

“Daddy, what are you doing?”

John feels himself go red, and he beckons for Julian to come and sit with him. Julian climbs onto the bed, and beside John Paul discreetly slides his underwear back on under the covers.

“Why are ya awake?” John asks, and Julian pouts and crawls up to hide his face in John’s chest.

“Bad dream.”

John hums and cards his fingers through his hair lightly, looking at Paul with wide eyes. God that had been close.

“Daddy, what were you doing to Uncle Paul?”

John hears Paul clear his throat slightly, and he gives Julian a wry smile.

“We were just being silly. Why doesn’t Uncle Paul take ya back to bed an’ he can make sure there’s nothing scary, yeah?”

Julian nods, and Paul picks him up, balancing the child on his hip before he leaves the room to put Julian back to bed.

John sighs and puts his pants back on, disappointed.

When Paul comes back, the younger man crawls into the bed beside him and rests his head on John’s chest. John hums softly and wraps his arm around Paul’s waist, pulling him closer, and places a kiss to his head.


	30. It’s Not That Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello. Hope you're doing well, darling. So... It seems that old mclennon is back, haha. My imagination wants this kind of story: John is back at home from the hospital where he had hip surgery. Paul helps him to adapt to new circumstances /maybe helps him with rehabilitation?/. That's the main idea. I know you can make an interesting one-shot out of this 😄

“Paaauuul.”

Paul sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face before he moves into the bedroom, finding John half-dressed.

“Help me.”

Paul tuts and grabs a pair of trousers from the wardrobe.

“I told ya I’d come and help. Yer not meant to be moving around so much.”

John grunts and lets Paul manoeuvre him into the pair of trousers.

“Right,” Paul says before he hands the crutches over to John. “Ya can come and help me make breakfast. It will do ya good to get up for a bit.”

Paul knows John hates the idea of having to rely on crutches so much, and he wants to kiss the frown of his face.

John grumbles and lets Paul haul him up into a standing position before a kiss is pressed to his cheek.

“Come on. It’s not that bad,” Paul says, and John scoffs.

“Ya do realise these,” he says, waggling his crutches around, “can be used as weapons.”

Paul laughs. “An’ what are ya gonna do with them, old man? Prod me with 'em?”

“I have a very good idea to wack ya over the head with them.”

Paul pouts, moving to instinctively place his hands on John’s hips, but settles them on his waist instead because he knows they’re still sore.

“Ya don’t mean it, Johnny. Ya love me really.”

Paul kisses him, delicate and delicious, before John pulls away to bat at his ankle with one of his crutches causing Paul to yelp.

“Anyway, who are ya calling old man?”


	31. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hi! Can I ask for Paul taking Care of ill John during tour?

Paul knew John wasn’t right when they woke up that morning, but John was adamant he was fine and they hit the stage that night with almost no problem.

Paul keeps his eyes on him through every song, and he worries at his lip when he sees John sway slightly on his feet and cough into the crook of his arm, sweat dripping off him like rain.

As soon as they’ve taken their final bow and are off the stage, Paul pleads with Brian to let them go back to the hotel before everyone else, and because Paul is good at using his puppy eyes, Brian allows them and they climb into the car quickly.

“I’m fine y’know,” John mumbles, sniffling slightly and Paul sighs.

“Yer really not John. I can feel the heat coming from you from ‘ere.”

John just grunts and shuts his eyes, letting his head loll back against the seat.

The rest of the ride is in silence, and by the time they get back to the hotel, John’s fever has skyrocketed and Paul has to practically lift him out the back of the car.

“C’mon Johnny,” Paul murmurs, tugging on John’s sleeve to get him to follow.

By the time they get up to the room, John isn’t quite with it, and Paul sits him on the bed gently as John stares at him, his eyes half-lidded. Paul quietly pries the shoes off his feet and peels the suit off until John’s down to just his underwear, and he quickly tucks him under the duvet before leaving for the bathroom.

John grumbles at him to come back, which Paul does, a cold, wet cloth in hand that he places gently over John’s forehead eliciting a moan from John.

“ ‘M cold,” John says, trying to bat Paul’s hand away, but Paul just tuts.

“Ya may feel cold Johnny but yer not. I need to get yer fever down.”

He watches as John sighs and closes his eyes, relaxing back into the pillow. Paul smiles gently and kisses his cheek.


	32. Are You Cold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Whatever you do don’t think about John and Paul sharing a hotel room with two separate beds in the early years of touring. Don’t think about Paul always being cold at night and John having to reluctantly (not so reluctantly) slip into Paul’s bed to warm him so he stops shivering. Don’t think about how eventually it becomes a habit and they just share a bed wherever they go. DON’T DO IT.

“Are ya cold?”

He hears a muffled ‘ _no_ ’ from under the thick duvet and John frowns.

“Paul, yer actually rattling the bed with how much yer shivering.”

He hears Paul huff and roll over to look over at him.

“An’ what are ya gonna do about it? There’s no other blankets.”

John rolls his eyes and huffs dramatically as he gets out of his own bed before lifting the side of Paul’s duvet, nudging a confused Paul to the other side, and sliding in next to him.

“Wh-what are ya doin’?” Paul asks, bewildered as John presses his body against his own.

“Warmin’ ya up.”

John thinks he might’ve overstepped the mark, and briefly thinks about getting back into his own bed, but Paul practically plasters himself against John’s chest, brushing his icy feet against John’s calves with a shiver.

It’s the same the next night and the night after, and soon it becomes more of an instinct for John to get into Paul’s bed. He tells himself it’s only because he doesn’t want Paul to freeze and not because he likes Paul being that close.

No, it can’t be that. And yet when he feels Paul kiss his cheek one night, he doesn’t say anything and instead kisses him back.


	33. Adoption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hey! Write mclennon (but not old this time, haha) where they just adopted a little boy and hold him for the first time, pretty please? ☺️

“Are you ready to meet him?”

Paul squeezes John’s hand and nods eagerly, and they watch as a woman walks in, a small bundle in her arms.

Paul’s heart is beating way to fast and he feels his eyes become wet as he lets go of John’s hand so his lover can hold the baby.

Paul looks over John’s shoulder at the little boy, giggling softly at the sleepy face he makes as he yawns, and John coos.

“He’s beautiful,” John says, and Paul can hear the emotion in his voice and it makes him giddy knowing they have a baby. _Their baby_.

John hands the baby over to Paul gently, and Paul cradles the boy in his arms with a smile.

“Hi,” Paul says sweetly, feeling John’s chin sit on his shoulder to watch them. The baby gurgles quietly and shifts to look up at him, and Paul feels his heart swell.

“I love you,” John says, pressing a kiss to Paul’s cheek, lips meeting salty tears.

Paul sniffs and tears his eyes away from the baby to look at John, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“I love you too.”


	34. Prank Gone Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Any beatle ship you want - They decided to make a prank on one of them and it doesn't end up well (somebody gets hurt, for example)...

John watches Paul, how he’s sleeping peacefully whilst draped across the sofa. He’s cute, John thinks, and he can’t suppress a grin when Paul mumbles quietly, wriggling in his sleep.

John knows it’s probably best to leave him, let him take a nap so he won’t be grumpy after having stayed up writing songs all night, but the opportunity is there, and John is kidding himself if he thinks he’s going to just leave him there.

He moves over quietly so he’s stood behind Paul’s head, his hands hovering over his lover’s shoulders with a sly grin.

“Paul,” he shouts, shoving Paul’s shoulders making the younger man startle awake with a ‘ _flipping hell_ ’ before tumbling off the sofa in a heap.

John can’t help but laugh, though it dies in his throat when he hears Paul groan, and he doesn’t move from where he’s fallen.

“ ‘Ey Paul. Ya alright?”

He bends down and rolls Paul over, who looks at him with a pout.

“Only gone and smacked me ‘ead off the floor,” Paul says, and John chuckles at the scowl on his face before helping him up.

There’s a bruise forming on the edge of Paul’s hairline, and John prods at it lightly causing Paul to hiss at him.

“ ‘M sorry Macca. Just wanted to make ya jump s’all.”

Paul’s face cracks and he smiles.

“I’m fine don’t worry. Jus’ know there’s gonna be revenge, Lennon.”

John quirks an eyebrow.

“Revenge?”

Paul only winks at him with a smug grin before moving to the kitchen to get himself an ice pack for his head.


	35. Physio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello. Do you want to write some old mclennon? 😁 Okay, but this time a little bit more angsty. Or kind of hurt/comfort? Something like that. So, I thought this could be connected to my last old mclennon ask (Paul helping John after his surgery) and be about John having hard times while the recovery. He's struggling with exercises and is just fed up with being old and infirm... Hope it makes sense, haha. Thank you, sweetie

Paul watches John shift slightly in his seat with a grimace, hands white-knuckled whilst gripping the arm of the sofa. Paul wants to help him desperately, just take all the pain away and let him rest, but he’s already given him his medication and he can’t have any more.

Paul sighs softly and stands.

“C’mon. We’ll do a few exercises and call it a night yeah?”

John’s face doesn’t change, but he looks up to Paul, and the pain is evident in his eyes.

Paul gives a gentle smile, and it causes the sides of John’s mouth to perk up a little. He helps him up, swiftly moving the crutches into his arms for support, and follows John into the bedroom, hands hovering over his back in case he’s needed.

They arrive in the bedroom, and John stops to face him. Paul lets John hold onto him whilst he sets the crutches aside before taking both hands in his own to hold his weight.

“Jus’ do whichever one that is comfortable and we’ll do some more tomorrow if yer feelin’ better yeah?”

John sighs but doesn’t object.

Paul watches John carefully as he brings one leg out to the side before bringing it back in carefully.

His breath is shaky against Paul’s cheek, and his hands clench in Paul’s painfully. When he does it again, his head falls forwards onto Paul’s shoulder and he stops, letting himself slump against Paul who holds him close.

“I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

It’s whispered into the crook of Paul’s neck, and Paul moves his hands softly up and down John’s back.

“Just once more and we can go to bed. Just once.”

It takes a minute before John heaves a breath and stands back up, holding onto Paul tightly. He does the exercise one more time, his face screwed up and biting his lip, before exhaling with relief after he’s done it, and Paul kisses his head gently.

“Well done luv,” Paul says, and when John opens his eyes to look at him, Paul kisses him softly.

“I hate this,” John says, murmured quietly against Paul’s lips.

Paul holds him tighter, hugging him close because yes, he hates this too. He hates seeing John in so much pain every day and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Paul sighs and kisses John’s temple.

“I know.”


	36. I Got You A Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hi. Can you write John&Paul where Paul gives John a surprise gift? When John opens a box, there's a cute little cat ☺️

When Paul gets home there’s a cup of tea waiting for him, and he smiles over at John who smiles back, though his eyes linger on Paul’s smug face.

“What’s the matter?” John asks, standing up to look at Paul’s face better.

“Nothin’. I got ya a present s’all.”

John’s face lights up, and Paul leads him into the kitchen where there’s a large box on the floor.

John’s eyes flick to Paul as if to confirm he can open it, to which Paul nods, before scrambling over to lift the lid. Paul hears a gasp and watches as John kneels down to pick up the kitten that had been hidden in the box.

“Macca he’s gorgeous,” John says, stroking the kitten with the pads of his fingers, earning a quiet meow.

Paul laughs and kneels down next to him, petting the cat in John’s hands.

“Thank you, Paul,” John says, kissing Paul softly as the cat meows between them.

“ ‘M glad ya like him,” Paul says, and John hums, scratching behind the kitten’s ears.

“I think I’ll call him ‘Buddy’. He seems the type of cat to listen to him.”

“Yeah sure Johnny,” Paul laughs, kissing John’s cheek lightly.


	37. You Know I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello. Could you write mclennon where John is going through serious depression episode? Of course if only you feel comfortable with it. Thanks

It’s been a long time since John’s been like this. It had been weeks before Paul could break him out of it last time. Days and days of coaxing him out of bed with a promise that ‘ _this day will be better_ ’. And eventually, the cloud lifted and John became somewhat more himself.

So when John refuses to get up four days in a row, Paul knows it’s happening again.

He finishes making the tea before moving into the bedroom, placing them on the bedside table. John is face down in bed, but Paul’s not sure if he’s asleep or not, so he sits down by his hips, placing a hand softly on his shoulders.

“John I’ve made ya some tea,” he says, but John doesn’t stir. Paul sighs internally and strokes John’s back gently.

“Johnny.”

He says it faintly, his hands drawing delicate patterns over John’s shoulder blades, and it seem to puncture through the thick cloud as John stirs and turns his head to look at him.

“I’ve made ya tea. I’ll sit with ya whilst ya drink it yeah?”

John blinks at him but nods, pushing himself up into a sitting position against the headboard, and Paul gets under the blanket beside him. He reaches over to get the teas, feeling John’s head rest on his shoulder, before handing him the cup.

Paul wants to ask him if he’s okay, but he already knows the answer so decides on something else.

“George rang earlier. Says he’s havin’ a great time. I think he’s just glad he doesn’t ‘ave to work whilst he’s on holiday,” Paul says, bringing his tea to his lips as he hears John hum.

“Lazy bugger,” John says, raspy and low, but Paul chuckles all the same.

“We can take a walk later if ya feel up to it? We don’t ‘ave to go for long. Jus’ take Martha up the fields for a bit.”

Paul knows it’s a long shot, so he’s not surprised when John shakes his head.

“That’s okay. Maybe ya can come an’ make dinner with me later yeah?”

John sighs but doesn’t complain, and Paul takes it as a win and knows this is hopefully one step further to recovery.

He kisses the top of John’s head lovingly, feeling John smile against his shoulder.

He knows he’s not better, not by a long while, but knowing John will get out of bed, even just for fifteen minutes, it’s enough. It’s enough to know he will recover. And yes the depression will still be there, but Paul will be able to hear John laugh again, and they can go back to making music.

“I love you. Ya know that right?”

John shifts slightly, though he doesn’t turn to look at him.

“I love you too Paul.”

And in the end, those words are enough.


	38. You With That Guy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: How about: John and Paul at a bar and some guy says that Paul looks like a twink or something so John beats the shit out of him

John stays at the bar, watching as Paul walks to the bathroom, and he sips on his beer quietly.

“You with that guy?”

John frowns and puts his drink down, turning his head to see a guy a few stools down.

“Yeah. What’s it to ya?”

The man shrugs, a smirk tightening his lips, and John sits straighter as his shoulders tense.

“Can see why you like him. He’s a bit of a twink ain’t he?”

“Excuse me?”

John is out of his seat before he knows what’s happening, and he approaches the man with his fists clenched, the man’s face shifting cockily as he stands.

“What did ya say?”

“I said,” the man says, his words punctuated as he spits. “He’s a twink.”

John swings, clobbering the man in the jaw who is quick to hit back, punching John in the cheek. They go at it for a while until John gets in one large punch, sending the man onto his knees. It’s then that he hears his name, and he looks up to see Paul running over to him with a scowl.

“What’s goin’ on?”

His eyes stay on John’s face until the man speaks up again.

“Hey sweetheart, d’ya wanna come home with me?”

The man is knocked out with one punch from Paul straight in the nose, and Paul grabs John’s hand to pull him out of the bar before they can get into trouble.

“Ya really need to stop gettin’ into fights,” he says, and John pouts.

“He called ya a twink.”

“And? I’m a grown man Johnny. I can fight for myself.”

John sighs, but pulls Paul into a hug, who holds him tightly.

“I hate when people say things about ya.”

Paul hums and kisses John’s head.

“Yeah but ya don’t need to get into a fight for me.”

John huffs against him and Paul laughs quietly.


	39. I Think Our Idea Of Fun Is Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hey. It would be nice if you take a chance on this ask 😆 So, generally the idea is simple but entertaining: John and Paul are on a winter holidays somewhere in mountains. They are skiing and having nice time together. But someday John takes a hard fall and ends up with a broken leg. Paul's super worried and his 'mother hen' mode shows up. John, high on painkillers, still says funny things and eventually he proposes to Paul while being convinced that a pretty nurse is flirting with his Paulie 😄

“Why are we doin’ this again?”

Paul sighs and turns to John, watching the older man frown at him as he shivers.

“Cause it’s fun.”

John grunts and catches up to Paul, who is already at the top of the ramp.

“I think our idea of fun is different,” John replies, as he looks down the ramp anxiously. They’re not even at the top one, but it’s a long way down, and neither of them are known to be good skiers.

“We’ve had fun so far. Stop bein’ a pussy. You’ll be fine.”

John grumbles at him, lining himself up next to Paul, who gives a cheeky smile before pushing off, and John watches him ski down the hill almost effortlessly.

John is quick to push off, wanting to catch up with Paul, only when he gets halfway his skis catch on something and he tumbles, flying down the hill in a flash of white snow until he crashes to the bottom, landing on his right leg hard.

He sits dazed for a second until he hears his name being called, and he looks up to see Paul running over to him, his face panicked. John wants to tell him he’s fine, but a white-hot pain shoots up his leg, and before he can say anything, he passes out.

— —

Paul sits by John’s side, waiting patiently for him to come around from the drugs after they had to re-straighten his leg and put it in a cast. Paul anxiously plays with his fingers as he watches John sleep. It had been scary, not knowing what was happening before John had been flown off to the hospital and Paul was left to get a bus, and then he finds that he’s broken the bottom part of his leg.

He watches as John’s eyes twitch before flicking open, and Paul smiles at him kindly, taking his hand in his own.

“Hey, Johnny. You’ve had a bit of a fall an’ you’ve hurt yer leg.”

John blinks at him for a second before cracking a wide smile that makes Paul frown.

“Yer pretty.”

Paul scoffs and sits back in his chair, watching as John’s eyes follow him. Of course, he’s still high as a kite, and Paul rolls his eyes as John starts playing with his fingers.

“Macca. Paul. Paaauul,” John whines when Paul zones out for a second, and he sighs before replying.

“What’s up?”

“S’just ya should marry me.”

Paul stills.

“Pardon?”

John whines louder, dramatically tossing his head back onto the pillow.

“That nurse is pretty but she’s not me. Love me, Paul,” he says, his words thick and slurred, and Paul frowns.

“John there isn’t a nurse in here.”

John’s stops rolling his head against the pillow to look at him, and Paul’s a little taken back by the look in his eyes.

“Marry me.”

Paul just chuckles lightly and squeezes John’s hand.

“Sure Johnny. But you’ll ‘ave to ask me again when yer not so high.”

John just groans loudly, and Paul laughs.


	40. Wash Your Hands, Then Hug Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: aaHh #5 for mclennon please 🙏

“What are ya doin’?”

Paul looks over at John and smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges making John chuckle.

“I’m makin’ lunch,” Paul replies, and John crosses his arms as he moves to look over Paul’s shoulder. There’s half a sandwich in the making, but the smell of it makes John’s nose shrivel up and he steps away.

“What, you decided to add the whole bottle of vinegar to it?”

Paul laughs and continues his work as John makes a disgusted noise behind him.

“What’s on it?”

“Cheese,” Paul replies, only he looks over his shoulder after a moment of silence to see John looking back at him sceptically.

“With what?”

“...pickle.”

John makes a fake gagging noise and Paul goes to swat him with the tea towel.

“It’s nice,” Paul says, putting the tea towel back down the cut his sandwich in two.

“No. You smell like the chippy.”

Paul only sticks his tongue out before putting his sandwich on a plate ready to eat. He turns to John, ready to pull him into a hug, only John stops him with a disapproving hand on his chest.

“Wash your hands, then hug me.”

“Yer a prick,” Paul replies, but he doesn’t move.

“Maybe so. But at least I don’t eat foods made in hell.”

“Yer so overdramatic Lennon,” Paul replies, and John doesn’t notice Paul’s arm snaking backwards onto the counter until there’s half a sandwich being shoved into his face.

“Eat it,” Paul shouts.

“Never,” John shrieks, shielding his mouth with his hands causing the sandwich to smush against his palm. Paul giggles and John pokes him in the ribs causing him to pull back with a gasp.

“You disgust me,” John says, and Paul only replies by obscenely biting into the mauled sandwich, laughing loudly as John grimaces.

“And ya stink, Macca. Maybe you should shower.”

Paul finishes his sandwich and puts his finger on John’s cheek.

“You don’t smell any better,” he says, and John lifts an eyebrow as Paul smirks at him.

“Maybe ya should join me.”


	41. You Smell Fantastic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: 29 for mclennon! 💛

When Paul gets home he can hear the shower running, and he takes off his shoes and dumps his bag by the door. He would join John but he’s so exhausted even his bones are screaming at him, so he treks over to the bedroom and drapes himself over the bed with a groan. He hears the shower stop, but he makes no attempt to move, his eyes closing as exhaustion pulls at his body.

He feels the bed dip next to him, and a gentle hand traces over his spine, dipping down onto the small of his back. Paul moves his face to look over at John, who’s quietly frowning at him.

“Hi.”

John’s lips twitch and his hand moves back up to stroke over Paul’s head, hand raking through brunette hair.

“You okay?”

Paul inhales through his nose, letting his eyes close as John’s fingers rub at his scalp.

“Tired.”

John hums and stops the movement of his hand only to haul Paul up into a sitting position by the shoulders, making the younger one groan and open his eyes.

“What are ya doin’?”

It’s only now that Paul’s realises John’s wearing a top, which so happens to be one of his own, and his just his y-fronts, and he smiles at John who just chuckles back at him.

“Even when you’re half asleep I can always rely on ya to get horny.”

Paul only shrugs sleepily and lets John unbutton his shirt and peel it off his arms before its chucked to the floor. Paul’s too tired to complain that clothes don’t belong on the floor, and lets John unbuckle his belt and pull off his trousers as well, which also land themselves on the floor. Paul’s left in just his vest and y-fronts, his feet also clad in thick socks, but he’s quick to get under the blanket and snuggle into the warmth as John turns out the light and gets in next to him.

John’s hair is wet against his shoulder, but Paul snuggles closer so they’re chest to chest, and he hides his face against John’s neck. John’s arms move to hook around his waist to pull him in closer.

“You smell fantastic,” Paul says, muffled against John’s neck, and John laughs.

“Go to sleep,” he replies, hearing Paul hum against him.


	42. I Wouldn’t Wanna Fight You. You’re Pretty Feisty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: 35 for mclennon maybe? 👍

“Would you jus’ listen to me!”

John snaps his mouth closed and crosses his arms.

“I’m jus’ tryin’ to help.”

Paul’s voice has gone back down to normal level, and John sighs.

“Sure doesn’t seem like it. Yer bossing us around like this is yer own show.”

Paul exhales, a hand coming up to rub at his face before letting it run through his hair. It’s gotten longer recently, John’s noticed, and he wonders why he’s not done anything about it. It’s not like him to let his hair grow out.

“I don’t mean to. I just... I don’t want to lose this yet.”

The double entendre of the sentence causes something to hiccup in John’s chest, and he lets his expression soften. Of course, this isn’t just about the band. How could have been so stupid to think Paul was just trying to save himself when he really was trying to save them both.

“I know. I don’t want to either,” John says, stepping closer as Paul’s expression shifts to that of apprehensive. John guesses his own behaviour is the source of that look, like Paul’s not sure what he’s going to say.

“I don’t want to lose you, Paul.”

He says it, his words soft but expressive, and Paul smiles slightly.

John pulls him into a hug, ignoring the small flinch from Paul as their bodies connect. After a few seconds, Paul’s hand move to wrap around his back, and John hooks his chin over his shoulder.

“I thought you were gonna fight me,” Paul says, but John shakes his head as Paul’s hands grip him tighter.

“Course not,” John replies, placing a careful kiss to the shelf of Paul’s jaw.

“I wouldn’t wanna fight you. You’re pretty feisty.”

“Piss off,” Paul says, and John laughs but only pulls Paul in closer.


	43. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello. Don't you miss old mclennon? haha. It's me and my 'grandpas' mood again. Here's the scenario: Paul and John are arguing about some painful situation from the past. None of them wants to calm down and things go pretty nasty. However, at the end they apologize one another... Thank you so much for all stories. Hope you and your loved ones are doing well ♥️

“You’re leaving?”

“Only for a few days,” Paul replies, watching as John crosses his arms, his eyes livid.

“Fine. Go with yer fuckin’ friends then.”

Paul slams the case shut and stands to full height.

“What the hell are ya on about?”

“S’just like when ya went to Paris without me. Now yer goin’ to New York without me?”

“Paris was in the sixties, John. Why are ya still goin’ on about that?”

John kicks at the wall with a frustrated groan as Paul lifts an eyebrow.

“Paris is our place, Paul. An’ we always go to New York together.”

Paul’s lips thin and he frowns. John looks at him, anger and hurt flashing in his eyes before he rakes a hand through his greying hair.

“I’ve got to go, John.”

John doesn’t reply, and Paul picks up his case before moving over to the door. He hovers by John, almost as if he’s going to hug him, but John snarls.

“Piss off Paul.”

Paul blinks and leaves with a huff, anger settling heavily on his chest as he slams the front door shut behind him.

— —

“Hello?”

His voice is groggy, still half asleep after being woken up by the phone ringing.

“Paul?”

“John?”

“I’m sorry, Paul. I don’t blame ya for leaving. I know ya had to. I was jus’ bein’ a prick.”

Paul rubs a hand over his face as he sits up, hearing his bones crack and creak in protest.

“I’m sorry too. Should’ve tried to find a way to bring you too.”

He hears John sniff, and Paul frowns.

“I love ya.”

Paul hums. “Yer a daft sod Lennon. But I love you too.”

John laughs, shrill and tinny over the phone and Paul yawns into the back of his hand, the knot in his chest finally releasing.


	44. I Don’t Wanna Go Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: “I don’t wanna go without you" number 17, with maybe some angst with a happy ending? Mclennon.

“That was Brian,” John says, and Paul looks up and over at him from his chair, his eyebrow arched.

“What’s he said?”

“You’ve got an interview in an hour..”

Paul goes quiet, and John moves away from the phone to sit on the chair next to Paul.

“By myself?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t wanna go without you,” Paul says, his lips pulled down into a pout. John hums and kisses his cheek chastely, knowing he needs to cheer Paul up before he goes.

“I know. But it won’t be long. An’ I’ll be waiting here when ya get back yeah?”

Paul sighs and nods, letting John kiss his lips sweetly.

“It’ll be fine. Yer always good at charming yer way through an interview,” John says, kissing the tip of Paul’s nose before pulling away, watching as the younger man blushes under his gaze.


	45. You Look Like You Need A Hug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Mclennon #2!!!!

Paul had stayed longer at the studio after everyone left, including John, just to try and get some alone time. This whole Beatle thing is getting at him. It just happened so quickly, and now there are fans following them and the sales are heightening and there’s so much pressure and he’s never _alone_. Not that he minds, most of the time. He loves John, and he loves spending time with him. But when they live together and work together and even sleep in the same bed, there’s just no room for your own thoughts without those of the other barging their way into your own head.

Paul sighs, his hands stilling on the piano as he looks up at the clock. It’s gone one o’clock, and he knows John’s probably already asleep by now. He’ll just have to be quiet when he gets in and sneak into bed.

He drives home, glad that the streets are quiet and there’s no sign of photographers or journalists or fans. He parks up at his house and enters quietly, quickly noticing the light on in the front room.

He takes his shoes and coat off by the door and moves into the living room finding John sprawled over the sofa watching tv. Although as soon as the older man notices him, he’s quick to scramble up to a standing position, and his smile just makes Paul want to cry right there and then.

It seems it must show on his face, for John’s expression turns sympathetic.

“You look like you need a hug.”

It’s enough of an invitation for Paul to drape himself against John’s chest, clinging tightly, breaths matched as their bodies touch.

“I knew ya weren’t right earlier. S’why I stayed up.”

Paul can’t answer right away, the gratitude clogging his throat as he chokes on a sob, burying his face against the solitude of John’s neck. John’s hands hold him tight, murmuring small words that don’t serve to reassure, but instead comfort, because John can’t tell him it will get better. That the pressure will lower and they’ll be left alone. And he can’t know. How could he?

Paul can feel John’s breath against his neck, wet and heavy and stuttered as he keeps in his own tears, and Paul can only cling to him tighter. Seek comfort that will simultaneously distract his partner from inner turmoil he knows is wrecking him from the inside.

“It’ll be okay,” John says, whispered like a exhale of insecurity, and Paul moves to lightly kiss at John’s neck because right now that’s all he can offer.


	46. If I Kiss You Right Now, I Won’t Be Able To Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah-yes-paris asked: Number 45? Mclennon :>>

John comes out dressed head to toe in the new Beatle attire, and Paul’s eyes go wide. They’d never worn suits before, and it’s a stark comparison to their leathers. Paul’s eyes trace over John’s body, and it seems to catch the older man’s attention, for he smirks a little making Paul flush in embarrassment.

Paul hesitantly walks over to him, his eyes landing on John’s tie that sits skew-whiff under his collar. His fingers reach out to it, tightening and realigning it as John’s hands crawl over his body to sit snugly in the dip of his spine.

“Like it?” he asks, face smug as Paul stammers a little for an answer, seemingly too flustered by John’s new look.

**“** If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop. **”**

Paul watches John’s tongue dart out of his bottom lip, wetting it slightly before he pulls Paul in closer and says “ _fine by me_.”


	47. When I'm Sixty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Okay, if you said so, haha. How about this idea - It's John's 64th birthday. And is there better way to celebrate it than Paul singing "When I'm Sixty Four" to him? 😄

“When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now.”

The voice is enough to wake John, and he groans loudly, feeling Paul’s face nuzzle against his neck.

“Will you still be sending me a valentine-”

“No.”

Paul makes an annoyed noise and nudges John who laughs, not even bothering to open his eyes yet.

“John,” Paul whispers, moving to press his lips against the shell of John’s ear, and John sighs before opening his eyes and rolling over in Paul’s arms to face him.

“Happy birthday, old man.”

“Ha ha,” John says, but Paul just giggles and moves forward to kiss at his lips. John closes his eyes, and he swears they’re back in the sixties. Paul still kisses the same, even after all these years. Passionate and emotional, passing love with the touching of lips. John pulls away and smiles, watching as Paul mimics his expression.

“Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four,” John sings softly, tracing his fingers over Paul’s chest as the younger man watches him closely, his lips twitching around the edges.

“‘Course I will,” Paul says, kissing John again though with a lot more force than the last. “But only if you’ll do the same for me when I’m as old as you.”

“Piss off,” John says, his lips still grazing against Paul’s, feeling as his lover smiles against him. John presses forward again, joining lips giddily as they relish in the early morning. There’s nowhere to be yet, they’ve still got a few hours to themselves, and John pulls Paul closer. He doesn’t care that he’s old, that he’s six years away from seventy.

He’s got Paul and that’s enough for him.


	48. Quitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hello! I hope you're alright and everything's fine ☺️ If you feel like it, you can write another old mclennon story. So basically the idea is just John trying to end up smoking and hopelessly failing. Paul is supportive and all but when one day he finds John hiding with a cigarette, he loses his temper. Sounds fun? 😉

John’s trying to stop smoking.

Considering he’s in his late fifties and has been smoking two packs a day since he was fifteen, Paul knows it isn’t going to be easy.

He himself had quit in the days of Linda, and it was pure hell, but she pulled him through swiftly with the persuasion that he’ll only doom himself to future illnesses if he continues.

So, y’know, Paul was quite firm with John at first, knowing he had to hold him to the idea and not let him back out of it. And John was doing great. There had been a few mishaps, but he was able to cut down to one pack then half a pack, and now nothing.

It’s been a week since John’s last cigarette, and if he can reach the next week, Paul is going to take him out for dinner.

He comes home not much later than five o’clock. John had decided to stay home in hopes he’ll find better inspiration for a song at home rather than in the studio, which was fine with Paul as long as John called when he needed him.

He can already smell it before he steps foot into the hall. The stale stench of smoke clings to his shirt and he grimaces, anger tracing his veins. He’d done so well, and now he’s only gone and set himself back further.

Paul huffs and makes his way further into the house, finding the bedroom door shut but the light on. He opens it quickly, not giving John any time to react, half sitting on the windowsill as he leans out the window with a ciggy in his mouth.

Paul’s eyebrows twitch and John’s face pales.

“What are ya doin’?”

John puffs the smoke through his nose and flicks the end out the window, climbing off the windowsill carefully.

“Was jus’ one Macca.”

Paul doesn’t buy it. There’s no way the house would stink so bad from one measly cigarette. He eyes John carefully for a minute before he strides over, pats John down until he finds a pack in his trouser pocket. A half-empty pack.

“Why didn’t ya ring me? I could’ve helped.” Paul’s voice is loud, reverberating off the walls as anger simmers in his words.

“Jus’ can’t do this anymore. I need them, Paul.”

Paul throws the cigarettes in the bin and sits on the edge of the bed with a drawn-out sigh, feeling the mattress dip next to him.

“I’m sorry,” John says, and Paul knows he means it, but he can’t bring himself to forgive him yet.

“Will ya ring me next time?”

John exhales and nods, biting at his lip as he rubs a hand over his face.

“You can do this, John. I know ya can.”

He shifts, the covers creasing under his movements as he brings John in closer. John falls against him hesitantly, almost unsure of whether Paul is still mad with him.

“It’ll get better,” Paul says, whispered against John’s ear as the older man grips him tighter.


	49. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lilypadd23 asked: I love your writing and your blog. With all the stress, I have been looking for McLennon to make me chuckle. Awkward boys find themselves both trying not to tell the other how they feel at the same time?

Paul watches John, his eyes snapping to the way his hips move as his fingers ghost along the guitar, his mouth pressed to the mic as he sings.

Paul’s glad he’s not leading this song, he can already feel his throat tighten as he watches the sweat drip from John’s forehead as his mouth creases. No. Paul shouldn’t feel like this. Not for John. But he does, how could he not, when the first time he met him he had his legs sweeped from under him, the summer fete of ‘57 a glance at future promises, as well as future unrequited love that he can’t help but let himself be pulled into.

How can he not love John with the way he grasps at passing touches and goes about his way to lock eyes with Paul like they’re in some sort of trance together, like they’re in their own little world. Paul loves with all his heart. He knows this. He just wished he hadn’t given it away so soon without a reply.

By the time the set has ended, Paul bows with the others before practically legging it off stage in search of an element of solitude that his veins crave in spite of knowing all he wants to do is be with John. But no. He can’t, so he lets his legs propel him to the nearest door, locking himself in what he supposes is the broom closet.

It’s small and cramped though there’s enough room to put Paul’s head back together again after it had melted once John had looked over at him by the mic stand. His heart was still fluttering, banging at his chest wall with a cry of ‘ _John_ ’ because that’s all he needs. All he wants. And a selfish thought climbs into the foreground and shouts that he should just tell him. But he can’t. He doesn’t want to end up at the end of John’s fist like Bob Wooler.

So instead he sits on the bottom of a bucket, head in his hands as his knees touch his ears, and he wonders how long he’ll have in here before they come looking for him. One Beatle missing would cause such a catastrophe, Brian had said when they’d first toured, because without all of them there’s no band.

He lets out a sniff, rubbing at his eyes before the door is pulled open. He looks up, met with the eyes of devilish, handsome, _beautiful_ John Lennon, and Paul can’t help but bury his head back into his hands. He hears the harsh sound of the door slamming shut before the feeling of John sitting next to him. They’re quiet for a while, but Paul can hear the pitter-patter of John’s breathing and it’s making it all the more harder to come up with a lie.

“What’s up?” John says, his voice genuinely curious. Paul looks at him between splayed fingers and blinks.

“Nothin’.”

It’s not enough to satisfy John, who makes an annoyed noise and nudges his shoulder.

“Cmon yer worryin’ me Macca.”

John’s voice is simple, soft in a way unlike him with an edge of concern that makes a wave of guilt pass through Paul.

“What ya worryin’ for?” Paul asks, rubbing at his face before he sits up straighter, feeling John’s stare dig into his cheek.

“S’just... never mind. We’ve got to leave in a minute so move yer arse.”

He stands and holds his hand out for Paul, who hesitantly takes it, his eyes raking over John.

“No seriously, Johnny. What’s up?”

Paul expects John to play it off and open the door. What he doesn’t expect is for a pair of lips to crash against his own, so strong he’s pushed back against the wall. John pulls away before Paul has any time to react and kiss back, his eyes wide in panic, a look that Paul’s not accustomed to from John.

“Shit I’m sorry. Christ, I’m so sorry Macca I’m-“

Paul pushes his lips against John’s before the older man can continue his litany of apologies, and the kiss is everything Paul imagined. John’s lips are soft and fit against his almost too precisely. There’s heat and lust, and Paul brings his hands up to cup at John’s jaw, feeling John pull him closer by the hands on his waist. John’s tongue traces against Paul’s bottom lip, hands moving to rake through each other’s hair before they both pull away, panting with their lips red and hair mussed.

“Christ.”

John laughs, and Paul just wants to kiss him again.

“How long ya been wantin’ to do that?” Paul asks, and John smiles, blissful and genuine.

“Since that bloody summer fete in ‘57..”


	50. Appendicitis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: What about Paul gets a bad case of appendixes while on tour but he doesn’t say he feel awful from the start and then things gets bad when they returning home on the plane and his fever strikingly high and he risks to rupture his appendicitis? The others three goes into panic. (I cannot believe your ask now is empty! You’re a genius I love everything you write! ♥️)

He feels like he’s been hit by a bus. It’s the only way to describe it. There’s a thick throbbing pain slicing away behind his navel, but it’s not enough to bring him down. Of course not. It’s their last concert in America before they fly back to London, and Paul’s not going to call it off on the grounds of a stomach bug. Even if it feels like someone’s hacking away at his insides.

He climbs the stage, noticing sweat already forming across his temples, and adorns a wide, plastic smile for the audience. No one seems to notice how his smile is feigned, his face twitching a little as a spasm of pain twists in his gut. He carries on through the performance, though soon his movements become stilted, tending more to rock on his heels than to sway his hips in hopes that it will make the pain lessen.

It doesn’t.

He manages to get through the set, though the bow debilitates him for a second, and he has to let the corners of his mouth perk up in hopes no one noticed.

Only someone does. And of course, that person is John.

Once they’re back in the dressing room, John practically corners him, predator tracking his prey to try and pry and answer from between Paul’s lips. Only, Paul doesn’t budge. He wants to just be able to go home, and he’ll play up the sympathy card where he can lay around and even let John lay around with him. But they’re not even on the plane yet, so Paul tells John he’s fine.

He isn’t.

They board the plane an hour after, and with every step Paul has to suppress a wince, his stomach convulsing and pinching as he moves to sit down. The sweat is practically drenching him now, and he blows out a breath, puffing out his cheeks as he tries to get himself to relax. Only his stomach is pulsing, throbbing painfully with the sound of his heart.

John sits down next to him, and Paul closes his eyes letting his head fall back against the chair. A hand is quick to pat at his knee, and Paul opens one eye to look over at John.

“You alright?”

Paul fights the urge to sigh knowing it’ll only make the pain worse, and instead wets his lips, his shoulders rising in a half-hearted shrug.

“Jus’ gonna try an’ get some kip.”

John eyes him, but Paul closes his eye and settles himself before John can reply, though John’s hand doesn’t move from his leg.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but soon breathing becomes too painful and he knows somethings wrong. He tries to breathe, though it’s shallow and short, and it attracts the attention of John who’s quick to ask if he’s okay. Paul would reply if he could, but the pain is too much. It’s pressing at his stomach in a way that makes nausea swirl in the back of his throat, and he when he accidentally takes a breath deemed too deep, his vision tightens around the edges until he’s pulled headfirst into darkness.

— —

He wakes up dazed, familiar voices wavering into his consciousness and he tries to move, a thick groan emitting from his throat before there’s a hand across his forehead and a voice against his face.

“C’mon Paul, open yer eyes.”

_John_.

Paul wants to open his eyes but the lids are too heavy and it’s so much easier to let himself be pulled under again.

— —

He wakes again with white sheets and the smell of antiseptic. He scrunches up his nose, his fingers twitching before he pries his eyes open.

The first thing he notices is John next to him, asleep in the chair with his mouth agape and his glasses crooked. The sight causes Paul to chuckle, though the moment stifles a breath as the pain laces through his veins and under his skin.

The gasp pulled from his lips is enough to wake John, who snaps his eyes open in alert before landing on Paul.

“Christ I’m so glad yer awake,” he says, and Paul’s confused. Why exactly is he in the hospital anyway?

Paul frowns, his tongue darting over dry lips, and John seems to cotton on to his puzzlement.

“Ya only gone and got yerself appendicitis didn’t ya, you git. An’ because ya left it so long it nearly burst.”

Paul grimaces, his hand sliding over his aching belly like it’ll barrier the pain. John’s eyebrows are drawn together, and Paul’s feels so guilty that he’s made him worry.

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” John says, his voice sounding so impossibly hurt that it pulls at the strings of Paul’s heart and ties them in knots.

“I didn’t think it was that bad. I was gonna tell ya when we got back to London.”

John’s lips pull thin and he sighs, moving to pull at Paul’s hand until Paul complies, letting their fingers interlace.

“You gave me a bloody scare ya know that?”

John’s words bite and sting as they bury in Paul’s guilt, but Paul lets himself smile, curling his mouth upwards in a way he knows will conjure a smile from John. And it does.

“I’m sorry,” Paul says, and John squeezes his hand, accepting the apology silently with a gentle gesture.

“I don’t think George will forgive ya so easily. Had a bloody fright he did.”

Paul’s smile widens and he shakes his head as he tries not to laugh, letting John squeeze his hand tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! If you have a request don't be afraid to send in an ask on Tumblr @lovely-rita-meter-maidd <3 <3


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